


Mickey's Choice

by inthedreamatorium



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthedreamatorium/pseuds/inthedreamatorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I guess that’s just part of loving people: you have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mickey's Choice

After kicking Ian one last time, Mickey walked away, refusing to let himself look back. He took another swig from the bottle before throwing it aside. “Fuck this shit,” he muttered. He had been numbing himself with alcohol for the past week, ever since the shit went down with Terry. Mickey hadn’t seen much of his father since that afternoon, spending most of days wandering the streets, usually with either a beer or bottle of whiskey in hand. He was surprised that Ian had even found him today, but then again, Ian typically had a sixth sense when it came to Mickey.

The whole situation was fucked up. Mickey is mad at Terry for beating the shit out of Ian. He’s mad at Ian for being the persistent fucker that he is. And he’s mad at himself, for letting himself _feel things_ for Ian.

_“So is it true, you’re getting married?”_

“Fuck!” Mickey screamed, causing a group of kids to scamper away. He stopped walking and put his head in his hands, trying to get the memory of Ian’s words out. “Fuck fuck FUCK.” He didn’t deny it, he couldn’t. So what did he do? He beat the crap out of Ian because that’s what he does. He’s an angry, vicious asshole who hurts the people he cares about. Tears threatened to escape and he squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the hurt deep inside. He let out a deep breath before continuing his walk, aimlessly wandering with no destination in mind. He wished he hadn't gotten rid of the whiskey. The numbness was starting to wear off and the memories of Ian were filtering back.

“Hey Mickey, wanna screw?” He was startled to realize he was walking past Angie’s house, and in typical fashion, she was sitting on her porch, waiting for some asshole to walk by she could proposition.

“Fuck off,” he yelled to her.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit,” she screamed back.

_“Is it Angie Zago or some other piece of trash you screwed so you can pretend I don’t matter to you?”_

Mickey started running at the memory. Running away from Angie, from Ian, from Terry, from _everything_. He wanted to escape, to hop on the train and leave this place forever. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon Mandy to Terry, he couldn’t abandon Ian. He had to protect both of them and that meant staying, marrying that whore and pretending to be a fucking breeder for the rest of his life. Ian would forget about him, move on, maybe be with that old grandpa he’d been fucking –or some other lucky asshole.

He stopped running once he reached Clark St. It was starting to get dark, which meant the hookers were coming out of the alleys. This block of street was where all the deals went down, and was largely ignored by the police. He used to come here all the time with his cousins, making fun of the assholes in the BMWs and Mercedes picking up cheap hookers. Sometimes he’d get his dick sucked in the alley, or he’d watch his cousin fuck the shit out of some cracked out whore. 

He knew there was an entrance down one of the alleys that led into a grimy warehouse where men would go to get fucked by other men. He’d never been inside, typically standing across the way with his cousins, belittling the assholes who went inside. That’s where he headed now, ignoring the women who were eyeing him as he walked past. He pounded on the door and lit a cigarette while he waited for those inside to scope him out.

The door opened, revealing a large, old fuck decked out in head-to-toe leather. No words were exchanged as Mickey walked by him. The air smelled of stale, dry cum, and a chorus of grunts rang through the air. He took another drag of his cigarette as he divulged deeper into the warehouse. There were men getting their dicks sucked and some getting their asses pounded, but he ignored them as he walked past, finally settling against an open space on the wall. He lit another cigarette as a man approached him. The stranger didn’t say anything to Mickey, his eyes asking for permission. Mickey put out his cigarette before turning around and undoing his pants. He leaned his head against the wall as he spread his legs as far as his pants would let him. Within moments, the man pushed into him, Mickey hissing in pain.

_“So that’s it, we’re over? Your dad beats the shit out of us and you’re just gonna get married, no conversation, nothing?”_

Mickey bit down on his bottom lip until he felt blood. He embraced the pain, knowing he deserved it. He reached down and started to pump his cock in desperation. He needed the release, he needed the feel of someone else’s cum in his asshole. He needed to wipe away the trace of Ian; the way he felt when he came, the way his fingers imprinted on his hips, the feel of his warm breath against the back of his neck. The stranger picked up his speed and the sound of his balls against Mickey’s ass echoed around them. Mickey started thrusting back, desperate for the release. He could feel the man cumming inside of him, but he didn’t care that he hadn’t pulled out.

 _“You love me, and you’re gay.”_  

A few strokes later, Mickey came with a loud moan. It was only after the man pulled out did he realize he had tears streaming down his face. He wasn't sure when he had started crying --maybe he been crying this whole time, he wasn't sure. He pulled his pants up and wiped away the tears before turning around. The man was still there and opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Mickey walked away before he could. He came here for one thing only, and once he got it, he couldn't stand to be here anymore. He rushed down the hall, keeping his head down, paranoid someone might recognize him.  

_“Just admit it. Just this once.”_

He would admit the truth, just never to Ian. Mickey knew the best way to show Ian how much he did love him was to walk back home and get married. Protecting Ian was now the only thing Mickey had left to give and he would be damned if he failed. Ian would never know the truth. He would never know he was sacrificing his own happiness and future for Ian's. From here on out, everything he did would be for Ian. 

Standing a little straighter at the thought, Mickey turned away from Clark St and headed home.

**Author's Note:**

> Mickey is one of the hardest characters I've ever written for. Thanks so much for taking the time to read; hopefully I did him justice!


End file.
